


this is where we start again

by ednae



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Part 3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 03:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17236568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ednae/pseuds/ednae
Summary: That’s why he’s doing this. To thank them, and to show them his true feelings. To let everything out once and for all, to stop bottling everything up. To finally come clean, after a lifetime of keeping everything under lock and key.For them, he thinks he can do this. Even if he cries.





	this is where we start again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kstrumpets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kstrumpets/gifts).



> stop using "come to me" lyrics as titles challenge (epic fail, NOT clickbait)
> 
> anyway this fic is set like... right after part 3, chapter 5-ish? after the whole yamato arc anyway, and there are heavy references back to the events in that arc :3c

Yamato’s been out shopping since nine a.m., which means it’s already a terrible day to begin with. He’d almost forgotten that the sun comes up much earlier than noon, and that most people start their days before time creeps into the double digits.

They’re all stupid, if you ask him. Who _wants_ to wake up before noon, anyway? And for what—an extra muffin at breakfast? Hell no, he’ll just drink beer.

That’s probably not healthy, but he never claimed to be an icon of peak performance.

Anyway, that’s beside the point. Waking up early was awful enough, but from there his day just got worse. All because he can’t find what he’s looking for.

He folds his pathetically empty arms across his chest as he scrutinizes the wall of trinkets in front of him. Five hours straight of shopping, going from store to store _to store to store,_ and not even one purchase to show for it. What’s the point of being an idol if he can’t even spend the money he gets? He might as well just move back into his mom’s basement and quit his job, since clearly he has no need for the money.

All his whining, as potent as it is, gets him nowhere, and his staring contest with the wall earns him nothing new. He drops his arms and hangs his head and lets out a long, disappointed sigh as he comes to the conclusion that this place, too, probably doesn’t have what he wants.

He takes a step closer, though, looking at the necklaces and bracelets and rings that line the shelves on the wall. They’re pretty, for sure, but each sapphire- and ruby-colored rhinestone only serves as a reminder that no jeweler would ever cater to the likes of him, no matter how much money he’s willing to fork over.

 _His & Hers,_ reads one of the necklace sets. There’s two of them, with two halves of a heart looped through silver chains. It’s the entire wall. His & Hers, His & Hers, His & Hers, a few blank ones so the customer can get it engraved—personalization means that it’s more romantic, or something.

Buried deep within the sets, behind all the other sets of jewelry, Yamato catches sight of two unimposing rings: _His & His._

Close, but no dice.

He runs his hand down his face. There’s no way he’s going to find this. He’s not even sure it exists. Couples’ jewelry is popular, sure, but that’s the problem. It’s _couples’_ jewelry.

If he wasn’t terrified of getting A Look, he’d call over a merchant to ask about the specific merchandise they sell. It’d save him time, but then he’d have to tell people things he doesn’t want anyone to know. Not yet, ideally not ever. He’s still an idol, after all. Dating is a no-go.

Dating two people at once is completely unthinkable.

Dating two people in a gay, polyamorous triad who also happen to be members of your idol group is downright laughable.

Figures he’d fall in this hole with no way to get out of it.

And yet, he’s not sure he’d want to even if he could. An uncomfortable warmth blooms in his chest as he remembers what he’s doing, who he’s doing this _for,_ and while Actual Human Emotions aren’t really something he’s used to quite yet, he’s got to say it’s not nearly as bad as he thought it would be.

So he goes back to searching.

He even gives in and starts digging through bowls of discarded jewelry, looking for something, _anything,_ that could be for three people. Three matching rings, three matching necklaces, three matching bracelets. At this point he’d settle for three matching nipple rings; he’s just that desperate.

Why did he even think that this whole matchy-matchy thing was a good idea? And now he’s way too stubborn to give up now. He doesn’t want to go back to the dorms empty-handed.

The knot in his stomach twists the more he searches. He’s long believed that he’ll never find anything that can possibly work for the three of them, but now it’s like the knife is twisting in his gut after he’s been stabbed. Rubbing salt in the wound. Adding insult to injury. Whatever the metaphor, it’s getting worse.

It’s when he thinks his stomach is going to tie itself into an impossible knot and he’ll have to have surgery to fix it and he’ll never be able to go on stage with his abs visible again because there’s a huge scar on his belly and then like, half of their sex appeal as an idol group will virtually vanish—that he catches a glimpse of something golden at the bottom of one of the bowls of jewelry.

He’s given up on hoping, but he pulls it out anyway to inspect it. It’s a little necklace with a short golden chain, probably meant to rest at the base of one’s neck, but his heart stills when he looks at the golden rings threaded through the chain.

There are three of them, woven together loosely so that they’re all overlapping, like a venn diagram. The gold is dull but not tarnished, just unimposing enough that he could wear this without drawing attention to it. The rings themselves are wide enough that he could get them engraved, but maybe that’s too mushy and sappy, and Yamato has stayed far, far away from anything mushy and sappy his entire life. It’s a little nauseating.

But he’s here already, right? looking for jewelry. To match with the two men he loves.

Oh, god, he’s become a sap.

“Uh, excuse me,” he calls out to a shopkeeper standing nearby, trying to repress the disgust at realizing just how soft he’s become. “Do you have more of these?”

He holds up the necklace for the employee to inspect, and she hums quietly to herself as she thinks. “I believe so, yes.”

“I need two more.” He holds up two fingers for emphasis, ignoring the way his voice comes out a little breathless. He can’t believe that finding something as silly and simple as a _necklace_ is so exhilarating. Is this what it means to get old…? Can’t tolerate roller coasters anymore without getting sick, but get the same high finding a really cute necklace while shopping. Give and take.

The shopkeeper spins around toward the wall and starts to search through the pile of jewelry with him, looking for replicas of the necklaces. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask what he wants it for, why he needs three, or any other embarrassing questions.

With a tiny gasp of excitement, she pulls out two other chains hidden within a bowl Yamato hadn’t yet looked through. Her smile is wide and excited, and Yamato has to fight down the corners of his lips that threaten to mimic hers.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” she asks, dangling the necklaces out in front of him. They’re perfect replicas of the first necklace, with the pretty golden rings on the short chain, devoid of any engravings but beckoning him with the absence.

He nods. “I’ll take all three.”

The bag is heavy in his hand as he takes it from the cashier, weighed down by expectations and nervous anticipation for what he’s about to do.

It’s the first store he leaves without being empty-handed, and it feels like a triumphant victory as he steps out into the afternoon sunlight. The warmth of the sun hits his face and it feels the same as whenever Mitsuki and Nagi smile at him.

Yeah, he’s got it bad if he’s making up shitty similes in his head about these two.

But that’s why he’s doing this. To thank them, and to show them his true feelings. To let everything out once and for all, to stop bottling everything up. To finally come clean, after a lifetime of keeping everything under lock and key.

For them, he thinks he can do this. Even if he cries.

He’ll definitely cry.

  
  


He decided against getting the necklaces engraved. That way, if they don’t want them, he can return them all and pretend none of this ever happened. And if they do want them, but think the engravings are silly, he doesn’t have to worry about being too over-the-top sappy. And if they do want the engravings, they can go back to the store and get it later. It’s win-win-win, no matter the scenario.

He doesn’t say anything as he pushes through the front door of IDOLiSH7’s dorm. He knows that most everyone is out still, either working or enjoying their day off. Tamaki is probably still asleep, since Yamato heard him playing video games until three a.m. even though he promised Sougo he’d go to bed by ten.

Nagi is off at a modeling job, but Mitsuki should be home by now. Yamato sniffs the air and the scent of sugary cakes confirms that yes, he’s here. No one else can bake something so delicious.

So Yamato sneaks down the hallway, ignoring the cake for now to avoid being spotted, and slips into his room soundlessly, hoping he can get everything set up before Nagi gets back. He should have—he flickers on his phone screen and checks the time—about fifteen minutes, if everything is on schedule.

He overturns the shopping bag onto his bed and two tiny jewelry boxes fall out, bouncing a little on the mattress. The boxes are a deep blue velvet, way too fancy for anything that Yamato has ever considered buying in his life.

It’s all so new, so out of his comfort zone. The feelings inside him stir restlessly, ready to get moving, to profess themselves out loud in as ostentatious a way as Yamato’s ego will allow. Maybe that’s why he didn’t cringe at the price tag or the fancy boxes or all the ridiculous, gaudy jewelry he passed over while looking for these three necklaces. He’s changing, and he hopes it’s for the better.

That’s what they all wanted, isn’t it? And he wants it too, now. He wants them to see his true self, the one he’s kept hidden for so long out of fear. He just hopes they like this New Yamato just as much as the old one.

With the boxes already reasonably wrapped, he doesn’t have to do much to prepare. These fifteen minutes, he decides, will be spent going over his lines, the ones he scripted for the cheesy romcom his life is turning into.

He wonders if he should work on timing. Will it matter? Should he make certain expressions? That’s his charm point, after all. If he can’t sell this, he’ll have failed as an actor.

Except… it’s not exactly acting, is it? Because these are his real feelings, real words and real people he’s speaking to. He doesn’t have to put on some ridiculous performance for them, even though he could if they wanted him to—he’s had enough practice both in his life and in his career. But Mitsuki and Nagi want the real him. They want him to stop acting. Mitsuki wants to see his real smile. Nagi wants him to stop lying.

And if this New Yamato thing is gonna work out, he should really try harder.

Yamato sighs and drops to his knees in front of his bed, burying his face in the blankets. This whole thing is such a mess. He doesn’t know what to do; he’s never been in a situation like this before. He’s never had feelings like this, never allowed himself to have feelings like this. And now he’s floundering around, trying to keep his head above water even as he drowns in all these new sensations and desires. He wants wants wants, but he doesn’t know how to get it.

Just… be himself.

It’s such stupid advice, really. But that’s what he resolved to do. Let down his walls, stop faking everything, stop dancing around the truth. Learn how to let people in. Love and be loved in return.

All right.

He can do this.

He swallows thickly and takes in a shaky, nervous breath, ready to accept whatever comes out of this.

The front door of the dorm slams open with enough force that Yamato can hear it crash against the wall even from his room. Well, Nagi’s home.

 _“Hello!”_ he calls, all bright and cheerful, still riding on a wave of emotion now that everyone is back together. He’d taken his and Mitsuki’s fight the hardest of them all, but now that everything’s been patched up he’s the happiest. There’s a stirring in Yamato’s chest that reminds him of the necklaces on his bed.

He reaches over and grabs the jewelry boxes, shoves them in his pockets so it’s not immediately noticeable what they are, and steels his resolve before pushing himself off the floor.

His door swings open and he pokes his head through to see Nagi in the common area dancing around with a nondescript package in his arms—probably new _Magical★Kokona_ merch. Tamaki is still sleeping, since his door is shut tight and there’s no sound coming from within his room, which means this is the best time to do it, when all three of them can be alone.

“Welcome back, Nagi!” he calls down the hall as he makes his way to Mitsuki’s room, his heart pounding in his chest. If he’d known that being honest about his feelings would be this nerve-wracking, he might have reconsidered this promise to himself and the others, but it’s way too late to turn back now. Those necklaces were expensive.

Two knocks on the door and Mitsuki pulls it open with a frown, staring up at Yamato with pinched brows. “When did you get home, Yamato-san?”

“I, uh, just recently.” He scratches his nose and avoids Mitsuki’s gaze, finding himself unable to look him in the eye.

Mitsuki frowns. “Huh, weird. I didn’t hear you come in.” He pauses and stares toward the front of the dorm where Nagi is singing the _MagiKona_ theme song as he unboxes his new goods. “Then again, you’re nowhere near as loud as that guy. Did you get anything while you were shopping?”

Oh, jeez. He wants to curse Mitsuki for being so to-the-point, but he doesn’t have the willpower to criticize anything about him, not when his knees are weak and he’s sweating like a dog and every thump of his heart echoes in his head.

“Yeah, I got you and Nagi something. Come see it.” He’s grateful, at least, that his voice comes out smooth. He is an actor, after all, and even though he said he would let his true self show, he figures he can at least let this one slide.

“Me and Nagi?” he repeats, already stepping out of his room to follow after Yamato. His frown curls into a wry smile. “Is this an apology present for all the grief you put us through?”

A strangled noise escapes his throat before he can stifle it. “S–something like that.”

Mitsuki snickers, probably thinking something very, very far away from the truth of the matter.

“Oh!” Nagi’s head pops up from his box of pink frills and golden amulets and all the other merch he probably spent his entire paycheck on. “You’re both home!”

“I went shopping,” Yamato explains, deciding to just throw himself into it. He’s already started this whole shindig, so the quicker he can get this over with, the better.

Nagi’s nose scrunches up. “Before noon?”

Yamato grunts, as if the comment were a physical blow to his stomach. “I’m capable of waking up early, you know.”

Mitsuki shakes his head. “Sure, but only after setting five alarms and forcing me to drag you out of bed by your feet.”

“It was only four alarms today, thank you very much,” Yamato retaliates, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “And you didn’t have to do anything.”

“So you’re saying a miracle occurred,” Mitsuki levels in a monotone.

“Yes—no!” Yamato groans and lowers his head. This isn’t how he wanted it to go at all. He was hoping for something sweeter, softer, more genuine. Instead he got a roast session about his terrible sleep schedule. “Listen, just—”

He cuts himself off to fish in his deep pockets for the little velvet boxes. He takes them out and holds them behind his back, because he can’t just give these to them without some kind of explanation. That’d just be weird.

“I wanted to… apologize to you, Mitsu,” he starts, looking down at the floor because he absolutely can’t look at either of them. His face is burning enough as it is.

“Is this about the fight?” Mitsuki interrupts before Yamato has the courage to continue. “I’m the one that hit you, though. I should apologize for that. And on your face, too…”

Yamato shakes his head. “No, uh. I was an asshole. To you both, really, but especially to Mitsu. So, I’m sorry.”

Mitsuki grunts and Nagi hums. Yamato spares a quick glance up to find Nagi smiling softly at him, waiting for him to continue.

“And—uh, well. That whole… thing, our fight… it made me think about a lot of things.” God, this is so embarrassing. “You’re both always looking out for me, even though I’m the oldest. Mitsu’s honest and straightforward and isn’t afraid of a challenge—that’s me. I’m the challenge, I mean.”

Mitsuki giggles under his breath.

“And Nagi cares a lot about all of us, even if he is a thick-headed otaku with way too many secrets of his own. He keeps us all together, like glue.” He side-eyes Nagi, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him, but he’s just staring at Yamato with big, watery eyes, like he still can’t believe that he’s home.

“You’ve both really made us feel like a family.” Yamato pauses and breathes in, deep and shaky. “I didn’t start out with the best intentions, and I felt pretty lousy about it. But because of you guys—and everyone else, but especially you two—because of you, I stopped having such twisted intentions and now I think of IDOLiSH7, of Nagi and Mitsu, as my home.”

This is so cheesy that Yamato feels like he’s going to hurl just from saying it all. But he pushes forward and reveals the boxes with as much of a flourish as his trembling hands can muster, pushing them toward Nagi and Mitsuki with more force than necessary.

“What’s this…?” Nagi asks, his voice filled with wonder. Obviously he recognizes the style of the box, and Mitsuki does too, from the way he gasps under his breath.

“Originally I wanted to thank you for putting up with my dumb ass for so long.” His throat is dry and his tongue feels like it’s swollen to fill his entire mouth. “But somewhere along the way, I realized something. Uh… um, well. You both mean a lot to me, but not in the same way the others do.”

Mitsuki’s eyes narrow as he peers up at Yamato. He’s yet to open the box, and Nagi too has tactfully set the present aside in favor of listening to Yamato’s spiel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I—uh, well. Please open the present.” Yamato squeezes his eyes closed and presses his palms together pleadingly, lowering his head so he doesn’t have to face them.

It’s still hard to confront his problems instead of running away.

But he’s still curious about their reactions, so he allows himself to peek open one of his eyes just in time for them to open their boxes at the same time.

Mitsuki’s eyes go wide and his lips drop into an astonished frown as he takes in the necklace. His head cocks to the side, as if he’s not entirely sure what he’s looking at.

Nagi, on the other hand, absolutely lights up. His fingers scramble to pull out the necklace from the velvet insert holding it in place, and he’s wearing a big goofy grin that only he can turn into something breathtakingly beautiful. His eyes seem to sparkle and his cheeks are pink as he holds up the necklace against the light to examine it more closely.

“Oh, Yamato!” Nagi gushes, swinging it like a pendulum back and forth. The three rings clink together softly, like the ringing of bells. “It’s beautiful!”

Yamato breathes out a quick, half-hearted chuckle and looks back at Mitsuki, satisfied with Nagi’s response. But Mitsuki still looks confused, and though he’s working at the insert to pull the necklace from it’s holder, his brows are pinched and he can’t stop frowning.

“Yamato-san, what is this?” he asks finally as he lifts the necklace up, holding it by the rings right up against his nose as he looks at it, as if there are the secrets of the universe lying within the gold that he can’t seem to figure out.

“They’re necklaces,” he says, because he doesn’t know how to answer the question Mitsuki’s really asking.

“I get that,” he says flatly. “I mean why? What are you talking about so suddenly—?”

He’s cut off when Yamato grabs the hand that isn’t holding the necklace. “Mitsu, Nagi,” he starts, and he really can’t believe he’s doing this, “I like you. Not as friends, although I do like being friends with you just as much.”

“Yamato…” Nagi breathes out, leaning forward, totally captivated by him. Yamato thinks it should be the other way around, since he’s spent this entire past year captivated by Nagi and not realizing what that meant.

“I’ve probably liked you for a long time, but I wouldn’t let myself admit it. I wouldn’t let myself admit a lot of things. But these past few weeks, everything that’s happened… and how you’ve both supported me this whole time, whether I wanted you to or not, it all made me realize that I can’t keep everything locked away.”

“Wh…” Mitsuki starts, but he falls silent after a moment.

Yamato shakes his head, dropping Mitsuki’s hand and stepping away. “You don’t have to accept my… feelings, right now or ever, really. But you wanted me to be honest, and I’m trying really hard to live up to your expectations of me because I… I l–love… you…”

It sounds like he’s choking on the words, and honestly he is. He’s never said that word in his life, and it sounds so foreign on his tongue, so _wrong._ But he said it. He said it, because he needed them to hear it, to understand exactly who he is and who he’s trying to become.

And as soon as the word leaves his lips all of his stress lifts with it, and he feels lighter. This was the right thing to do. Not holding it in until he bursts, like he’s done for most of his life, but sharing himself with others, letting them see his feelings.

He might be far away from wearing his heart on his sleeve like Nagi or being brutally honest like Mitsuki, but this is a start. He can work with this, and he hopes they can too.

“Yamato,” Nagi says, and though it’s a whisper it’s loud and echoing around them. He looks up to find Nagi standing over him, his face so close that Yamato thinks he might explode.

“What are you—”

Nagi cuts him off with a finger to his lips, and with his other hand he reaches down and grabs at Yamato’s fingers, weaving his own through them until they’re holding—

They’re holding hands.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings with us,” Nagi says, so close that his breath tickles Yamato’s ear. “Can I share mine now?”

Yamato’s face is burning and he’s pretty sure his vocal cords have melted from the heat, so he just nods.

“You are both my dear friends,” Nagi says, squeezing Yamato’s hand once for reassurance. Yamato would squeeze back if he hadn’t lost all function in his body. “I didn’t have friends growing up. Other than Haruki, you are all my first. IDOLiSH7 means so much to me.”

Friends, friends, the word keeps echoing in Yamato’s mind. But that’s probably for the best because now he can prepare himself for rejection.

“I have been in love with Japan for as long as I’ve lived.” Nagi smiles down at him, and Yamato’s heart really does explode this time. He’s not sure if he should cut him off to call an ambulance or if he should suffer and bleed out just so he can listen to every beautiful word that drips from Nagi’s perfect lips. “Since I came here, I’ve also fallen in love with the Japanese people. And two people are particularly special to me.”

Yamato can’t breathe.

“Your name is an old word for Japan,” Nagi continues with a wink. “So I guess you can say I fell in love with Japan all over again after meeting you.”

Yamato’s head is going to explode. It’s gonna fly right off his shoulders and break a window from the high speeds it’ll achieve. Maybe it’ll kill a dog and he’ll be charged with murder. He’s got that kind of luck.

“Are you…” It comes out hoarse and dry because he has no working vocal cords left, so he clears his throat and tries again. “What are you saying?”

Nagi lifts Yamato’s hand to his mouth and pecks a light kiss on his knuckles. “I love you too, Yamato. It has been a while since I’ve felt such deep emotions for another man, but I’m grateful they are directed at you. And, of course, at Mitsuki too.”

Mitsuki, silent throughout the whole exchange, shouts out wordlessly and jumps back, taken by surprise by his sudden inclusion. “Uwah? Me?”

Nagi holds his hand out for Mitsuki to take, and it’s smooth and suave in a way Yamato could never hope to achieve. Casual flirting, sarcastic banter, sure, no one can top him there. But sincerity is a beast Yamato can’t conquer. His heart swells with affection for Nagi even as his mind spins, trying to take all of this in.

Mitsuki breathes out, long and loud, and runs a hand through his hair. His other hand is still tightly clenched around the necklace. “Are you sure you’re not drunk, old man?”

Not the question he was expecting, but it’s valid nonetheless. He shakes his head because his throat has closed up again.

Mitsuki opens his fist to stare at the necklace again. “These rings are supposed to be us, right? It looks like some kind of proposal.”

Oh shit, he never even thought of it that way. He knew it was cheesy, he knew it was lame, he knew it was some over-the-top romantic gesture that he wouldn’t have been caught dead doing about two weeks ago. But they’re not even _together_ yet; a proposal is way too much. He didn’t want to come on _this_ strong.

“I—I didn’t mean, it’s definitely not—”

Mitsuki laughs as Yamato scrambles for an explanation. “It’s fine, I get it. I don’t… really know what to say to all of this, though.”

He hadn’t really considered that confessing to two people at once would mean that he has to open himself up to rejection twice in the same conversation, but in hindsight it should have been obvious.

Nagi may have accepted his feelings—a fact he’s still trying to wrap his mind around—but that doesn’t mean Mitsuki will. They’re two different people, after all. As much as he doesn’t want to, he has to keep them separate in his mind as people with different thoughts and feelings. Even if Nagi likes him, it doesn’t mean Mitsuki will feel the same.

“I’m sorry for… forcing this on you, Mitsu,” he says, bowing his head. Nagi keeps his hand steadily in front of him, still waiting for Mitsuki to take it, as if there’s even still a chance. “I’m sure it’s weird for you. I just… wanted to let you know my feelings. You don’t have to accept them. Honestly, I was expecting rejection, so this is fine.”

“Huh?” Mitsuki grunts. “Yamato-san, what are you talking about?”

Yamato’s chest clenches. “I know that opening up and being honest about things isn’t going to get me what I want. That’s why I never did it before. So I get it. I was prepared for this. If you don’t want the necklace, then—”

“Shut up.” Mitsuki grabs the front of Yamato’s shirt in his fist and pulls him down to eye level, mashing his face into his until their lips touch and Yamato’s brain melts out his ears and onto the floor under him.

Mitsuki’s lips are warm and chapped, and if Yamato had ever had a kiss before he might be able to compare it to past experiences. But he has a shitty personality and everyone knows it, so, well.

But this kiss, nonetheless, is as much soft as it is explosive, with all of Mitsuki’s frustrations and passion pressed into it. Even if Yamato had past experiences, he’d still probably rank this as his favorite.

He pulls away as suddenly as he came, wiping his arm across his mouth and staring Yamato straight in the eye, refusing to release him from his grasp. “You’re dumb, you know that?”

Yamato would form words if it were possible, but his mind is numb and his body is on fire and that’s just not going to happen. So he grunts instead, hoping it’s enough to convey his confusion and blind acceptance of that very true fact. He is, in fact, dumb.

“Why would you think I’d reject you, after all that’s happened?” Mitsuki is yelling, which starkly contrasts with what he’s saying. Not that Yamato has any capacity to understand words right now, but still. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have punched you.”

Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but Yamato understands it perfectly.

Mitsuki huffs, his breath puffing out onto Yamato’s face. “I like you, Yamato-san. You sure don’t act like it, but you care a lot about all of us, and you want us to do our best. You’re always helping us. I like that about you. I like _you,_ Yamato-san.”

He releases Yamato’s shirt and takes Nagi’s outstretched hand.

“And you, too, Nagi. Thank you for helping us while we were fighting. This old man is stubborn, but somehow you’re good at managing him.”

“Mitsuki…” Nagi mutters.

There’s a dusting of pink on Mitsuki’s cheeks. He dips his head low to hide it, and all Yamato can process is how cute he looks in that moment. “Gah, this is so embarrassing! You should have warned me I’d have to do something like this today! I’m not romantic like Nagi or going through a weird mid-life crisis like you, so I don’t know how to deal with this.”

So that’s what he meant.

Yamato’s mind is blank.

“Do you accept our feelings, then?” Nagi asks. His face, too, is pink, and Yamato thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Nagi less than perfectly composed. And yet, despite all of his focus on looking perfect, Yamato thinks this is the most beautiful Nagi has ever been.

“Of course I do, dumbass!” Mitsuki’s face scrunches up, and there are already tears running down his face because Mitsuki is the total opposite of Nagi when it comes to composure.

That’s right—they’re two different people, with two wildly distinct personalities. Yamato knows this. And yet, somehow, when they come together they’re an unstoppable force, enough to kick his lazy ass into gear and make him a better person. He doesn’t want one without the other; it would feel incomplete. They’re a unit, on stage and off, and this is exactly how it should be.

“You… both of you… like me?” His mouth is years behind his mind, and he struggles to form any kind of coherent sentence even as his mind races a thousand kilometers a minute. He doesn’t quite know how to take all of this in.

“We like you,” Nagi repeats firmly, squeezing Yamato’s hand again.

“We like you.” Mitsuki nods and grabs onto Yamato with his free hand, completing the link.

They’re all connected now in a haphazard triangle. It’s oddly shaped and kind of a mess, but so are they, Yamato possibly the worst out of them.

“I like you, too.” Because it feels incomplete if he doesn’t say anything, even though they all already know it. He’s embarrassed himself enough already.

The necklaces dangle from where their hands meet, glinting in the harsh light of the IDOLiSH7 dorm. On each, the three rings are tangled together. Somehow, it makes a perfect metaphor for their messy kind of love. Yamato’s heart thuds against his chest, overflowing with warmth and affection for the two men standing before him.

He never thought he’d get this far, not in his life. He never thought he was capable of opening up, never thought he deserved to be loved. And still, here he is, with his feelings bared and his heart vulnerable. With two people who accepted his feelings.

“I like you guys, too,” he repeats softly, finally letting his tears fall to mirror Mitsuki’s, his face red to match Nagi’s. And for the first time, everything feels all right.

**Author's Note:**

> my gf got mad at me for this bc i based yamato's confession on hers when she confessed to me and our other gf lmao :*
> 
> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/polythagoras) where all i do is cry about polythag


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